Potter's Affair
by Fett d'Facto
Summary: Harry knew his inheritance wasn't all pleasant, but the last thing he expected was to leave Gringotts with two wives - nor for Ginny to leave them breathing.
1. Prologue

A/N: This was originally written for the _Potter's Affairs_ challenge at SIYE. The brief was essentially to write a story involving Harry getting his act together after leaving Hogwarts: organising his inheritance, deciding on a career/home, sorting out his relationship with Ginny and accepting his "Spoils of War".

What they received probably wasn't what they intended...

 **PROLOGUE**

'Do yeh know what this is about then, 'Arry?' said Hagrid as they stood in line in Gringotts, glad to be out of the hot sun outside.

Harry shook his head. 'Just got a letter telling me I had an appointment this afternoon - at least it came this morning instead of in the middle of my surprise birthday party tomorrow. Thank you, by the way.'

'It's no bother, 'Arry. Gives me something teh do. And it's sorta fun intimidating people.'

Harry nodded and tried to keep ignoring the little looks people sent him. At least Hagrid's looming presence had stopped the whispers about the "Chosen One" sharpish. 'Can we pop into the Ministry when we're finished? I've wanted to an Auror for years, but... well, the time has come and I'm thinking of other things.' Like how to discretely get his hands on a beginners' reading-list for how to detect and defeat magical traps. 'I've had enough trouble to last me for a lifetime so I don't need to borrow someone else's.'

Hagrid nodded. Harry had no intention of returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year; certainly not until after Voldemort was destroyed — if at all, but it was worth pretending to try and allay what little of Mrs Weasley's suspicions they could.

'My name's Harry Potter,' said Harry when they reached the receptionist. 'I've an appointment for three o'clock.'

The goblin clicked his fingers — or at least Harry assumed it was a he; having never seen a goblin that seemed female — and another goblin wandered over.

The second goblin paused for a moment, looking at him. 'Follow me.'

The goblin led them out of the lobby and up a richly carpeted staircase, stopping before an intricately carved wooden door. 'You will need to wait out here,' he said to Hagrid, pointing at the chairs set out around the landing.

The goblin opened the door and ushered Harry inside.

At a desk that dwarfed the occupier sat the inevitable wizened old goblin wearing a monocle. On the dark panelled wall behind the goblin hung a pickaxe and a hammer. 'Sit down Mr Potter.'

Harry sat down in the leather chair opposite the desk, the other goblin following him inside.

'Mr Potter, I am...' the old goblin looked at the first one, who was still lingering at the door. 'Is there something you need to say?'

The goblin stared at Harry, then sadly shook his head.

'Then leave, Griphook.' The goblin trudged out and shut the door. 'Mr Potter, we at Gringotts apologise for Griphook's bizarre behaviour. Rest assured that it will not happen again. My name is Turvok, and I oversee your accounts. Now that you are of age you gain direct control over your assets and your guardian's access is terminated.'

'Guardian?'

'Albus Dumbledore.'

'What? Why?'

Turvok shrugged. 'It is standard procedure for all muggle-born wizards to have a magical guardian to deal with the legal requirements of the wizarding world if they rear their head. Mostly that involves advising the muggle-born's parents and possibly signing various documents where needed. With your upbringing it was deemed necessary by the courts even if you were not, technically, muggle-born. Caused a great deal of beard wringing in the Wizengamot — no small issue given the size of them.'

'What has he done with his access?' And why hadn't he told him?

'He has set up a debit agreement with Hogwarts as is normal for your tuition. He also authorised the sale of your parents' house.'

'He sold my parents' house!'

Harry wasn't aware of standing up, but he was, blood thundering in his ears.

'Perhaps some context would be beneficial,' said Turvok, in tones that translated quite easily to _sit down and stop making a fool of yourself_. 'In November nineteen-eighty-one, the Ministry introduced legislation authorising them to issue a compulsory-sale order for your parents' house in Godric's Hollow to create a memorial. Albus Dumbledore arranged a clause in the legislation that prevented them from issuing the order unless the owner was not prepared to sell or demanded an excessive amount amounting to ten percent over the purchase price or...' Turvok looked at him for a moment. 'The Ministry would have acquired — taken — the prop — house. Thanks to Albus Dumbledore you are twenty thousand galleons richer than you would have been.'

Harry could feel his ears go red. 'Oh.'

'He also authorised us to make several minor but virtually risk free investments, increasing the Potter family fortune by a modest sum. The Potter vaults hold a few heirlooms of significant value and three hundred thousand galleons. We would recommend renewing the present contract with your current Gringotts's financial manager. He's dealt with the Potter accounts for the last half-century, and is rather keen to get your money working for you again, rather than stagnating as it has been under Albus Dumbledore. Do you have any questions?'

'Heirlooms?'

'I'm not sure what they are, but I can find out for you.' Turvok made a note on a piece of parchment. He smiled. 'Moving on to the Black family... one of our oldest clients. You have a vault containing slightly over two million galleons, heirlooms to the value of approximately five million galleons and two singing house elf heads in bell jars.'

Harry blinked. 'Pardon?'

'Two singing house elf heads in bell jars. They are now illegal, so it would be inadvisable to remove them from Gringotts — that is in no way a professional legal opinion and Gringotts Bank Limited accepts no liability or responsibility for any actions carried out in reliance upon aforestated opinion.' He said the last very quickly.

'That's horrible,' said Harry, leaning back in the armchair. Of course, it was the Blacks, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He frowned. 'Does anyone else have access to the Black account?'

'Technically, any direct Black male can use the vault. Practically, however, the late Sirius Black dismantled sufficient of the surrounding legal documents that you may treat all the Black assets as your own. As the sole males in the direct Black line are both dead, the family is to all extents and purposes at an end save as a legal entity — that is in no way —'

'I know,' said Harry, pushing his thoughts away from Sirius and the money he wouldn't — shouldn't — have had were it not for Voldemort.

'— legal opinion and Gringotts Bank Limited accepts no liability or responsibility for any actions carried out in reliance upon aforestated opinion. There is also a property, but I regret to say that we cannot seem to locate it in our records or via further enquiries. We will, of course, continue trying to solve the problem.'

'I know where the house is,' said Harry. 'Don't worry about that.'

The dawning realisation in Turvok's eyes made Harry want to kick himself. How much more of a clue did he want to give him?

'Finally, you have a small pewter medal given to you by the Ministry in thanks for defeating _You-know-who_. Do you have any further questions?' said Turvok.

Harry blinked. He'd lost his parents, and that was all the Ministry thought they were worth? 'I'm thinking about being a curse breaker after I finish school. Do you have any information you could give me?'

Turvok pushed three sheets of paper across the desk to Harry. 'If you ask at reception they should be able to give you a pamphlet about curse-breaking. If that is all, the final item is these contracts.'

Harry picked the first one up and read it. It renewed the contract he had with his financial manager for three years. He shrugged and signed it. He'd no idea how long his morbid treasure hunt would take him, and Gringotts had been managing his assets okay as far as he could tell.

He pulled the next one toward him. He was dimly aware of his mouth dropping open. The other one was virtually identical. But neither started until 'Can I book another appointment first thing tomorrow? And... if anyone asks... I haven't seen either contract yet.'

Turvok glanced at him, a knowing smirk replacing his otherwise permanent scowl for a moment. 'Of course.'

Harry nodded gratefully and left at a run.


	2. Love and Marriage

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE AND MARRIAGE

'You never bring your wives here,' said Mrs Weasley as Ginny kissed him on the corner of his mouth. 'I think I've only seen them twice.'

Harry shrugged and tightened his arms around Ginny's waist in silent warning. They could be a little less careful here, but not much. 'I've told them they've got a standing invitation to come with me,' he said as he released Ginny and accepted a hug from Mrs Weasley. 'But Tracy's busy with her job and Daphne's got her nose to the grindstone at the Ministry. From the way she tells it she's the only person with their head screwed on'

'Percy's just as bad,' said Mrs Weasley. 'Gets so absorbed in his work someone needs to go and make sure he takes a break.'

Harry nodded as he followed Ginny toward the dining room. 'I'm familiar with the symptoms.'

Mrs Weasley nodded emphatically. 'Exactly. Don't let Daphne overwork herself. You need some work life balance. I'm grateful Kingsley's given Arthur the position he deserves, but I do wish he was at home more.'

Harry and Ginny shared a smile. 'I was talking about Hermione, Mrs Weasley. Daphne's her own witch and any suggestions to the contrary wouldn't go down well — especially not from me.'

Mrs Weasley made a strange noise of disapproval and waved them toward the door, passing Ginny a bowl of mashed potato to take through then following behind them.

Harry smiled as they sat down at the dining room table. Grimmauld Place may be home now — after (more or less) two years it was _his_ home, rather than Sirius', even if he did share it with Daphne and Tracy — but there was still something about the Burrow, or maybe the Weasleys, or just the fact that they were his first family. There was a certain amount of give-and-take in his and his wives relationship, and he'd put in the obligatory visits to their parents. They didn't compare, though. He didn't know what it was, whether it was the atmosphere, the warm feeling, the _belonging_ , or even the food, but the Weasleys were family in a way the Greengrasses and the Davises were not.

Though it probably helped that here he wasn't seen as a political match or a thug abducting their daughter... though if he could get away with it... he was fairly sure Ginny wouldn't mind.

He turned to look at her as she slowly slid her foot down his calf.

She shook her head fractionally then grinned, passing the roast potatoes to him.

These last two years had given him plenty of acting practice, whether it was not giving in and grabbing Ginny and kissing her until her toes curled, or convincingly performing the required public displays of affection while at a Ministry function with Daphne, but it was evident that the look Daphne and Tracy enjoyed teasing him about had appeared on his face again. Was it wrong for him to be looking forward to living with Ginny so much he could almost taste it? Not that they'd managed to work out a way of making it palatable to everyone else yet.

Not unless they wanted a scandal.

'Can you get Daphne to Floo me?' said Hermione as the meal began winding down. 'I'm starting at the Ministry in a fortnight and I've got a few questions.'

Ron snorted. 'A few? You've got _twelve feet_ of them.'

Harry nodded. 'I'll ask her. She'll probably want to talk to you as well: She's certainly asked about you often enough.'

'Why?' said Ron.

Ginny shrugged. 'She seems to think that Hermione'll either be her rival for Minister or between them they'll set the Wizarding world alight. She already has you pegged in as head of the Ministry Prosecution Service within ten years.'

Hermione blushed. 'That's nice of her to say.'

Mr Weasley paused in mopping up his gravy with his last roast potato. 'Hermione, that lot need setting abla — alight. The last time there was a significant change in the legal system was 1795. It's long overdue, and it's highly intelligent, non-partisan, forward-thinking people like you we need to do it. People like all of you.'

George nodded. 'Apart from Ron, of course.'

'Says the person without a single NEWT,' said Ron, glowering at George across the clean chicken carcass.

'And if Daphne said it, that's what she thinks,' said Ginny when Hermione still looked unconvinced. 'She's a shrewd political operator, but she doesn't play games with Harry.'

Mrs Weasley stood, snatching up the empty serving dish. 'Ginny, can you come and help me with the dessert please.'

Harry glanced at a supremely unconcerned Ginny.

'It's alright Ginny,' said Mr Weasley as his wife stalked out. 'I'll go.'

The five of them left looked across the table at each other as the door closed behind him, thunderously loud in the leaden silence.

'Have you decided what you're doing yet Harry?' said Hermione, changing the topic of conversation with all the subtlety of her boyfriend.

Harry shook his head. 'I can live off my inheritance for a while before I have to make a decision.' Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ginny's red lips smile at the massive understatement. Less welcome was the sight opposite him, where Ron was showing signs of resurrecting his favourite discussion topic. 'And I'm still not sure about the Aurors, Ron. After I defeated Voldemort I decided I'd had enough trouble for the rest of my life — I don't need to borrow other people's.'

'You should try for one of the Quidditch teams,' said George, leaning forward. 'You're better than Charlie, and he was reckoned good enough for England.'

Ron nodded. 'You love playing Quidditch, loads of money, loads of free time, it's not as though you can get any more famous... the Cannons —'

'Enough,' snapped Ginny, locking eyes with the pair of them. 'You've pestered him about this enough, the pair of you. He doesn't want the fame, the posters, the rabid fans, the insane media interest. It's his decision — back off.'

Harry wondered what they'd say if they saw their discussions behind closed doors, where Ginny was persistently telling him exactly the same thing as George and Ron. At least Daphne and Tracy left Ginny and him to it. He dropped his hand below the tablecloth and squeezed Ginny's leg.

'You ought to do something, though,' said Hermione, giving Ron a quelling look. 'You need to keep occupied somehow.'

George grinned. 'Come and work for me, Harry. I'll put you to work on the till and passing trade will treble.'

Harry shook his head. 'No thanks. I've got more female attention than I want already.'

George leered at him. 'So how does two wives work out, Harry?'

'Very well.'

Broadly speaking, anyway. As an answer it didn't work so well, George looking for opportunities to corner him and interrogate him about their non-existent love life all afternoon. They'd spent the afternoon sitting around the wireless and just chatting idly, Ginny telling Hermione about her trials at the Harpies yesterday while Ron decimated him at chess. George didn't appear to be willing to risk Ginny stepping in to shield him again, so the afternoon passed pleasantly enough.

Mrs Weasley poked her head around the lounge door shortly before dinner, the look on her face making Ginny stiffen in her seat next to Harry. 'Ginny, dear, could you just come and help me collect a few eggs and things for tea please?'

'One minute, Mum,' said Ginny as Mrs Weasley disappeared again.

After Ginny'd finished her conversation with Hermione about Kreacher and Winky and their low-intensity conflict over the right to cook shared meals, she got up and went to the kitchen, Harry following her. If Mrs Weasley was going to give her a hard time about him, he wasn't going to let her take all the heat.

'Harry,' said Mrs Weasley, hesitating for a moment when she saw him follow Ginny in. 'Could you go and collect the eggs please?'

He wasn't entirely sure what the words were that Ginny stopped on his lips, warning him off with her eyes.

'Two, Mrs Weasley?' said Harry, Ginny's faint smile of thanks the only thing that made abandoning her bearable.

'Three please, Harry.'

XXXXXXXXX

After nineteen years, Molly Weasley would have hoped that her daughter thought she had more intelligence than a particularly dense rock.

Ginny'd had a crush on Harry Potter since Ron'd come back home after his first year and filled her head with stories about how fantastic Harry Potter was — not that Molly disagreed, even if she did wish trouble found him less. Her baby girl'd told her mother about her previous boyfriends, but she hadn't mentioned being kissed by the boy of her dreams in front of the entirety of Gryffindor House. The sight of them both at Professor Dumbledore's funeral would have been sufficient to spill the beans, even if she hadn't heard the entire thing from Minerva. And, of course, Ginny's failed attempts to cry her heart out discreetly and the way they clung to each other while waiting for the others to get back...

And even if she hadn't been suspicious about their body language every time she saw them together, the looks exchanged when she'd asked Ginny to help her collecting the vegetables for dinner made it abundantly clear.

She pursed her lips as she looked around their orchard, lingering on what had been, yesterday evening, a grey-green tree heavily laden with large, green bramley apples. No elephant should ever look like that.

She sighed, making a mental note to get George to sort it out. She supported their — his — joke shop wholeheartedly, but she did wish he'd stop bringing his work home with him like his father. The fiasco about the flying car still gave her a headache. Not that she could have solved that anymore than she was capable of fixing the poor creature currently taking up residence. She smiled. Georgie had long since surpassed her own charms and transfiguration abilities.

But now she had to collect the makings of a fruit salad and deal with her other recalcitrant offspring.

'Apples first,' she said, conjuring a basket as Ginny pulled her wand out and prowled around the tree. 'So when is it you get told if you're on the reserves, then?'

Ginny summoned an apple off the tree and tossed it to her. 'Thursday-ish.'

'Do you get free passes? Or a discount on tickets?'

'To give to other people? Not to the Harpies games. We get two passes for the reserves games plus a twenty percent discount on merchandise.'

'Best think about who you're going to give those passes to ahead of time, or else you'll have a riot on your hands.'

'Harry and George,' said Ginny immediately. 'Bill and Fleur are probably going to be gallivanting around Egyptian tombs, Percy's not interested, and Ron'll be training.'

Molly paused, needlessly checking that the apple wasn't bruised. 'You sure about that? Giving one to Harry?'

Ginny banished two apples into the basket with a pair of thuds. 'Yes. He's my best friend — there's no-one else I want to give a pass to.'

'You sure? He could buy two annual tickets and not notice the change.'

Ginny made a show of intensely checking the apples higher up the tree. 'The others won't mind. Harry and George enjoy a game of Quidditch more than they do.'

'Harry likes watching you, then?'

'He seems to enjoy watching me play Quidditch as much as playing together, yes.'

Molly blinked. She'd thought they'd passed into the realm of euphemism, implication, and double meaning. And it wasn't hard to find them in Quidditch anyway, but... her daughter didn't reply to the question "Does he love you?" with "He likes the sex", did she? She supposed it was easier if the same reasoning applied to Ginny, even if it meant she hadn't managed to install any sort of morals in her baby girl.

Not that she was especially keen on the idea of sex before marriage anyway, even if it wasn't with a married man. You got carried away in the moment, and sometimes you forgot your spells and then you were pregnant and being rushed into an early marriage... not that she had any regrets, not really. But even if she had had sex sooner than she probably should, it wasn't with a married man!

She struggled for a moment, then, when she couldn't find a way to phrase it, put euphemism and double-speak to sleep. 'Does he really love you?'

Ginny locked eyes with her. 'More than you know. And I love him just as much,' she added in response to her unasked question.

'He's a married man, Ginny.'

Ginny shook her head. 'The prat's trapped in a nightmare he's too noble to allow to finish.'

Molly put the basket down. 'Ginevra Weasley, if you're scheming to undermine Harry's marriage —'

A branch covered in apples crashed onto the ground at Ginny's feet.

'I want Harry to be happy,' said Ginny evenly, her eyes blazing. 'Poisoning his relationship with Daphne and Tracy is hardly going to make his life happier.'

Molly wasn't sure whether she should be pleased by that answer or not. 'I know it must be difficult for you, Ginny, but even if you do love each other it's just not acceptable for you to be having an affair with a married man. Can you imagine what the Prophet would do with this?'

Ginny stared at the basket, absently fiddling with the ring on her right hand. 'I'm very aware Rita Skeeter would think she'd discovered the thirteenth use of dragon blood,' she said at last. 'But you can hardly call Daphne and Tracy wives. They're terms in two bloody stupid contracts that's barely even legal. Harry's Great-Grandfather is an arse. It's not love, it's not marriage, it's not a relationship — it's a requirement unless he wants to lose what few objects his parents left him.' Ginny smirked. 'But sod his Great-Grandfather. The two daughters were too old for the contract to apply when Harry's grand-father was born, there were no daughters for Harry's father to wed and now Davis is penniless and the Greengrasses have been ruined by the war. So screw him.'

Molly used her wand to strip the branch of apples and move them into the basket. 'They're bonded, Ginny. Wouldn't you want your husband to be faithful to you?'

'He's _mine_. And he has been before Daphne and Tracy arrived on the scene.'

'You went out for three weeks, Ginny,' said Molly softly. 'That's not a life-long commitment.'

'You'd let Dad go, just because a piece of paper said so, would you?'

Molly drew herself up. 'I wouldn't have an affair with a married man. And you deserve better than —'

'Better? _Better?_ Go on, Mum, you tell me where I can find a better husband than Harry. You tell me.'

Molly bit her tongue. 'Ginny, when this gets out, regardless of how much you love each other, your reputation will be shredded by those parasites in the press, and —'

Ginny's eyes flashed. 'So we should cave in, let them tell us how to live our lives, should we? Let them take over where Voldemort left off, ruining Harry's life? Give me one good reason why we should let those bastards win.'

'Ginny...' warned Molly.

'You want me to be miserable for the rest of my life? You —'

Ginny sighed, furiously blinking back tears.

'I know it's difficult Ginny,' she said, pulling her stiff, unyielding daughter into a hug. 'But you've got to let it go. There are plenty of men out there, and it's not as though you're going to lose your friendship with Harry.' At least, she fervently hoped that was the case.

'What would _you_ know?' spat Ginny, tearing herself out of the hug and Apparating away.

Ginny didn't say a word at tea that night, just ate mechanically and every so often glanced at Harry in his place on the other side of Hermione; Hermione's chair an abyss between them.

An abyss she had to put there.

XXXXXXXXX

It had become their table.

In the corner, well away from the windows, and no-one knew their names.

Harry resented that they had to resort to this. It wasn't really much of a celebration of her first professional game as Chaser for the Harpies if they were sneaking around in a Muggle coffee shop.

'The last time we had something to celebrate we went to Grimmauld Place,' said Ginny as Harry brought the two cups of weak tea over. 'And the time before that you snogged my brains out in front of all of Gryffindor.'

'We're not seeing each other, remember?'

'Not enough of each other, anyway.'

Harry raised his lukewarm tea in silent acknowledgement. 'So move out — or in, rather.'

'I'm not renting a flat — or letting you waste your money instead — if the only reason is to present a front to my Mother.' She sipped her tea. 'Unless, of course, you don't want me anymore.'

'If that happens, I want you to shoot me, as I'm obviously too stupid to live.'

Ginny smiled. 'When's the meeting with Gringotts?'

'Half-five.' Harry tapped his fingers against the side of the teacup. 'Are you sure this is what we should do with our money?'

'Yes,' said Ginny vehemently. 'I'm able to tolerate Daphne and Tracy, but I'm sick and tired of this sneaking around and living half-a-life. Let them try and slander you when we own the Prophet and the Quibbler won't bat an eyelid at our allegedly immoral and outrageous relationship. Besides, it might be nice to have a truly independent, impartial press.'

'Just as long as it keeps us out of the news and doesn't sling muck at us.'

'That's what I said: Independent and impartial.'

Harry smiled across the plastic table at her. 'Though when you're the Harpies star chaser it might not be especially fair. People will want to interview you.'

Ginny scowled. 'If the world was fair, we wouldn't feel the need to buy the Prophet before you can make up for the last three years.'

Harry felt a painful twinge in his chest. 'I didn't want this, you know.'

'I know.' She sighed. 'Best be off to that meeting of yours.'

Harry nodded. 'Really well played, Ginny. You were fantastic.'

'Aren't you forgetting something?'

He smiled, leaned over... and kissed her.

XXXXXXXXXX

'Mrs Tracy Potter wants to know if she can come through, Master Harry,' said Kreacher as Harry walked into the kitchen, looking around blearily.

He nodded and reached for a piece of toast as Kreacher popped off.

Their first meeting had been horribly awkward, but being thrown together as they had made you friends of a sort by default — even if Daphne and Tracy had their own self-contained flat. He didn't think they'd ever displace Hermione in his affections, much less Ginny, but they'd periodically have a meal together, and the connecting door would be open most of the time.

Despite Daphne being relaxed enough to lounge around in her nightdress, he'd never seen Tracy less than fully-dressed — until now.

He raised his eyebrows as she walked into his kitchen wearing a very loosely tied together dressing-gown, clutching the Prophet in her hand. Word hadn't leaked out about their attempted take-over, had it? 'What's wrong?'

Tracy dropped the Prophet on the table, a smirk faltering before it was even half-way onto her face. 'The amount of outrage on my behalf is gratifying, but I'm still not interested.'

Harry's insides ran cold as he reached for the paper.

 ** _The Chosen's One  
Potter Cheats on Wives_**

And it wasn't even a good picture of them — two figures partially concealed by the other patrons in that horrible cafe.

He looked up as he heard thumping on the stairs.

Ginny's face was set in a scowl, her face flushed. 'I give up. The secret's out and we're not going to be able to get it back in the bag. This farce is _over_.'

'I'm not complaining,' said Harry hastily as she turned her baleful eyes on him. 'But what about —'

'I locked the door behind me,' said Ginny, yanking a chair out from the table and collapsing into it. 'She can't get in.'

'That bad, huh?' said Tracy.

The fire turned green, Molly Weasley's head appearing in the flames.

It was worse.

Molly wasn't quite sure what she was expecting to find. The glare from Ginevra was expected, but a barely dressed Tracy Davis certainly wasn't.

The girl in question drew her dressing gown tightly around her, pulled a quill out the pocket, and scribbled on the newspaper in front of Harry, the rasp of the quill echoing through the kitchen.

'Winky,' said Tracy.

'Yes Mistress Tracy?' said Winky as she appeared next to the table with a crack.

She tore a strip off the newspaper and passed it to the elf. 'Take this to Daphne please.'

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but then realised she'd no idea what to say, the appearance of one of Harry's wives, barely dressed, having completely driven what she was going to say out of her mind.

Which was probably just as well, given how Ginny'd moved to sit on Harry's lap. She didn't want a repeat of the shouting match they'd just had, but she wasn't entirely sure what else she could say that wouldn't set Ginny off again and make her see sense. And, actually, she wasn't entirely sure what she could do about it anyway. Even if Ginny'd stormed off here in a fit of anger, there was nothing stopping her storming off _elsewhere_ anymore — and Ginny was making it quite clear that _this_ was home.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'I suppose you'd better come through.'

Tracy turned and looked at him. 'Harry, Daphne —'

'Doesn't matter. Both of you knew this was going to happen eventually.'

'She won't say anything to anyone, will you Mum?' said Ginny, her eyes boring into her. 'And within a week or two the front organisations will have bought up the Prophet, Daphne can grease a few palms at the Ministry and suddenly this will be a tale of one man's stupidity rather than of his scandalous relationship. All neat and safe and _unnecessary_.'

Harry lightly touched Ginny's arm. 'We agreed when this mess started that we'd all play nice together.'

Molly wasn't aware of saying anything, but the chilly looks all three of them gave her made it clear that she had.

'If you think either of us are prepared to share our partner, you are very gravely mistaken,' said Ginny, taking refuge in icy formality.

'And it's doubtful either of them would be interested in each other regardless,' said Tracy, transfiguring her dressing gown into a long, flowing robe. 'Daphne lounges around virtually naked and Harry doesn't bat an eyelid. It's not ideal, and I don't think Ginny is especially keen on the pretence Harry and Daphne keep up in public either, but we're quite happy as we are.'

'Your — your partner?' said Molly, looking from Tracy to Harry and back.

Harry smiled. 'It was... useful... for Daphne and Tracy to be able to point toward proof that they're in a heterosexual relationship and not to have people able to easily find dirt to use against Daphne.' He shrugged. 'And Ginny will tell you I'm a stubborn idiot with an overblown sense of responsibility. And... well, it might be minor, but those three books sitting in that vault are still my parents'.'

Ginny smiled a thin smile. 'We usually get on okay together, and the connecting door between our living areas can be shut quite easily. There's no wanton behaviour.'

Molly winced. 'He's still a _married man_.'

The three looked at each other, the ticking of the clock deafening.

'Yes,' said Ginny, taking the ring off her right hand. 'To _me_.'

'To you?' said Molly as Ginny placed the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. 'You _eloped_?'

'We've been married since the end of my sixth year,' said Harry, a goofy smile on his face as he looked at Ginny. 'We knew then that there was no-one else for either of us — and I wasn't going to be forced to marry someone else when I had Ginny.'

Molly shook her head, whether in denial or to clear it she wasn't sure. 'You can't have been. Ginny was sixteen. That's not legal.'

'It was a Muggle wedding,' said Ginny, her eyes clearly seeing something in the fire other than her mother. 'You don't need your parents' permission in Scotland. I've got the dress upstairs.'

Molly opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

'A speechless Weasley,' said Tracy, smirking.

'You _eloped_.'

Ginny gave Harry a sour look. 'Not through choice.'

'But... why didn't you tell me?'

Ginny shrugged. 'I promised Harry we'd break up for my safety. When he was given the contracts it knocked some sense into him. We loved each other, and neither of us were prepared to let it go because of a piece of paper. The contracts let all prior marriages stand, so the next move was obvious.'

'But I wasn't prepared to let it be publicised — it would have painted a target on her chest,' said Harry, giving Ginny a squeeze. 'So not only was the Muggle marriage legal, but it was also discrete. Now Voldemort's dead it's just a question of getting it out with as little damage to Daphne as possible.'

Molly frowned. 'But it's not a proper bonding.'

The look Harry gave her made it quite clear why he was the one who survived everything thrown at him when the more experienced, more powerful, did not. It sent a shiver down her spine. 'Do you really think we give a damn about what anyone else thinks? Going into that disaster it was enough that we were Husband and Wife. Whatever else happened, Ginny came first.'

Ginny kissed him on the cheek. 'Happily we didn't need that particular stick, and the four of us came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. We don't care, and the rest of the world can keep their noses out.'

'But then why all this stuff about front organisations?' said Molly shifting her numb legs on the cold floor of the Burrow.

'Harry's been living with a pair of Slytherins for the last two years, and Ginny would have been as well if they hadn't been concerned about your feelings,' said Tracy, sending a twinge of guilt through her. 'Part of the reason Daphne and I are here, in addition to the convenience of having a Husband, is that she has political capital out of being the wife of _the-Boy-Who-Lived_. As it stands, there's a possibility of inbred idiots calling Harry and Ginny's marriage illegal, and making political capital out of the resulting scandalous affair. We want as little fall-out as possible and Harry and Ginny were good enough to agree to it. Ginny's more devious than Daphne when she sets her mind to it. Unfortunately it's now damage limitation.'

'But why not tell us?' said Molly desperately. 'We're your family. You only get married once and we weren't there.'

'Could you have acted as if we weren't married?' said Ginny, looking questioningly at her. 'I had enough problems, and I knew that if I couldn't, I was dead.'

'But...'

'There are more important things than happiness,' said Harry. 'We wanted each other in one piece. Better an entire life to be happy in rather than a month or two.'

'But it's been almost two years!'

'Would you have been happy with Ginny moving in with me, a married man?'

The lie caught in her throat.

'Believe me,' said Ginny quietly. 'Were it not for Harry's dislike of the press and Daphne goading me into being patient I'd have left you like a shot. We might not care about what people think, about their stupid obsession with being 'proper' regardless of the reality, but neither of us want the whispering. If we could have avoid it all we'd have been happy. As it is, we're now having to explain it to a hostile press. Of course, some people are so closed-minded and wilfully blind they won't think it's proper whatever we say.'

Molly felt as if she'd been slapped. 'Ginny...'

The glare her daughter gave her felt like the Cruciatus. 'You've spent the last two years telling me I'm a slut — I don't care any more. Throw me out, never speak to me again... it's your decision. You can either be happy for us, or keep muttering about how I'm living with the man I love where we can't hear you. I love Harry. A choice between him and you isn't a choice at all.'

'I didn't say that,' said Molly as her throat constricted. _Married_.

'You didn't have to.' Her eyes lingered on Molly's. 'Will we acquire the shares?'

Harry nodded. 'We're throwing enough money at it the only question is how much over fifty percent we get.'

They looked at each other, another one of those silent conversations.

'Do you want to come through?' said Ginny, stiffly. 'We've got some photos you might like to see, and we could talk about our plans for renewing our vows next year.'

Molly nodded, blinking away happy tears. 'I'd like that.'


End file.
